


said no one has to know what we do (her hands are in my hair, her clothes are in my room)

by saturndust



Series: Bemily Week 2018 [5]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 17:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13980363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturndust/pseuds/saturndust
Summary: Inspired by a Destiel fwb au





	said no one has to know what we do (her hands are in my hair, her clothes are in my room)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Destiel fwb au

Beca Mitchell's hair was tousled and messy, eyes glimmering as she smirked at her, foot knocking against hers and completely failing in trying to be subtle about the fact that they had just been heavily making out not five minutes ago. A main giveaway was that Beca was currently wearing _her_ hoodie; the black hoodie hanging bagging on her shoulders and the drawstring completely uneven, plus Emily's shirt was inside out, but it wasn't very noticeable as it's plain grey in colour and hidden effectively under a maroon hoodie. Emily then brushed her hair out of her face and locked eyes with Beca, licking the frosting from her cupcake off her finger and smirked as Beca pursed her lips and pressed her leg up against Emily's.

They'd been doing this for months now, hook ups whenever and wherever and most ending up with the two of them bolting into rehearsal late, with messy hair and Beca's fly not being done up the whole way. Their lips seemed to always be connected when they had a spare private moment; it's as if they're addicted to each other and the dosage they get just isn't enough; they forever crave more.

And Emily just seemed to distract Beca so much, it drove her insane. Take when Beca had to write an English essay on the poem 'Blessing' and yet the only blessing she could focus on was Emily sat in these tight skinny jeans and this fucking crop top that showed off her toned stomach. So, of course, in no time Beca's hands were in her hair, legs wound around her waist as they sat on the desk chair, hands travelling up and down her back, teeth clashing, both breathing heavily, whimpers escaping Emily's mouth as Beca latched her lips on Emily's neck and the English essay was forgotten.

Were they dating? No. The rule was to have fun, to be limitless and know they wouldn't be abandoned or cast aside or forgotten; they love each other and know they can have fun whilst knowing their bed mate would never leave them. There were zero strings attached and they were free to date others if they wished, plus the other had 'veto powers' if one didn't approve of the other's choice in boyfriend/girlfriend. It was perfect for them, they knew they love each other and that having a cheeky bit of fun was the point... because feelings complicate things and set things up for disaster. So they had no feelings. None.

And yet... despite being free to date others... they never stray from each other. Never. So the question was this: were there slowly, and ever so quietly, strings of feelings and attachment melding between the two? Strings as fine as spider web silk and as delicate as thin ice. If they were, they knew to never utter a word; they never dreamed of mentioning they wanted more than hook ups and playful adventures. They wanted each other, imperfections and all, genuinely and for as long as they could... but they couldn't let it happen.

But it was stricken, striking like lightning: fast, sharp, bright and so dangerous and terrifying, because lighting means thunder and thunder means a storm. And that's what was brewing.

It struck Beca because as she lay in Emily's embrace, trailing patterns down the skin of her stomach as she slept, legs tangled in the sheets it struck her. She was in love with her.

Suddenly she's thinking: "Holy Shit" because as she looks down at the serene, beautiful, perfect girl who is her friend (and bedroom friend) suddenly she realises that what she has with her isn't enough and will never be.She's in love with her. And properly. Full blown, head over heels. And she stills the movement of her hand and knows she can't breathe a word about this. It would break the deal and distance her from Emily because she thinks she'd never think of her like that. She concludes it will forever be unrequited between the two and as much as she can't let herself, she hates it. Beca hates it because she's in love with her.

She's in love with the way she laughs at any joke, terrible or actually funny. She's in love with the way her brow furrows, lips purse and nose wrinkles as she tries to focus on her work and how her eyes crinkle when she smiles and how her lips always curve into a smile as she writes her songs and how she bows his head bashfully and chuckles softly, voice rich and smooth, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. Beca's in love with the way she snuggles deeper into her arms, how her legs tangle with hers. She's in love with delicate, long fingers entwining themselves with her's to calm her harsh, bubbling, vicious waters; Emily's an anchor to her madness; she's in love with that too. She's in love with her perception of the people and things around her, careful and elaborating all around, thinking and always, always being ready for anything. Just like her. But she does nothing as her storm would ruin her, her purity in the shit pot world around them.

So she says nothing.

Beca says nothing.

She says nothing because she doesn't know she feels the same way.

Emily's in love. She's in love with his murmured snarky comments that make her gasp for air in between laughs. She's in love with the way Beca catches her bottom lip under her teeth and digs the end of her pencil into her temple as she mixes. She's in love with how she mutters the words she reads almost inaudibly and with how she smiles at her. She's in love with the way her eyes shine as she smiles, how her fingers connect the abundance of freckles that litter Emily's jaw and how her morning kisses on her lips lift up the corners of her grumpy morning scowl into a tiny smile, though she would deny any of that. But most of all she's in love with the way she is, with how she looks at everything as if everything is a blank demo waiting to be let loose on, how she steps fully into everything, not hesitation, no fear: just Beca and with how she looks in love with her life for once and how she's never been happier and she doesn't want to ruin that with her unrequited feelings.

And she says nothing.

Emily says nothing.

And hence the perpetual cycle of emotional turmoil.

So as Emily blinks those deep brown eyes open she looks at her and just smiles. Beca smiles back, cute and fond and nothing like how she normally is in the morning. And it's a steady silence, accompanied by a beautiful, long and fond and soft look that just personifies love. And the abstract noun hangs between them, channels and connects them and the abstract noun becomes human.

But they don't know this. They believe it to be unrequited.

And just God damn it. They're in love and they just can't see it. They just can't fucking focus on what's in front of them and it painful. It's painful for both of them because unreturned feelings sting like a bitch. And neither of them can sack up and spill the beans.

So it's a silence, and it seems it will always be a silence.

"It's better this way." Repeated like a mantra to themselves.

So when Emily shows up to the group rehearsal they're having with messy 'post make out' looking hair, flannel shirt half hanging off her lanky frame. Normally Becawould smirk and silently admire her handy work but this time she sat there, eyes emotionless, mouth parted slightly, eyebrows slowly knitting together and the realisation dawning upon her: she might be drifting. She could always veto... she pondered as he smirked at her and sat down, nudging her knee with her's. But then she knows not to fuck up her world because she would never hurt Emily.

But when Emily's shirt falls slightly and Beca notices the mark on her shoulder she feels the hit of jealousy. The fact that someone else's lips were on Emily - _her_ Emily - infuriated her. She felt like she was going to explode.

So when Emily pulls off the flannel, leaving her in a tank top that exposes her slim arms Beca is used to having wound around her and toned stomach Beca has traced millions of drawings over, that just so happens to expose the damn hickey again Beca is fuming. She's fuming because when she catches a glance of the mark she's overwhelmed with this sickening picture of someone else having their arms around _her_ Emily and having their lips on the skin she had previously marked as hers. She takes it out on Amy - poor girl - by making her do more and more cardio and drilling the Bella's all throughout rehearsal that even Chloe says she's 'almost as bad as Aubrey'. Cynthia Rose muttering something about pms. 

"Hey, Beca?" Emily asks, tapping her shoulder gingerly after the rehearsal is over. 

"Can't talk, Legacy." Beca mumbles and Emily knows she's pissed; Beca knows Emily hates the nickname (she only uses it to piss her off or show she's angry) and Beca only ever calls her 'Em', 'Emily' and a series of other pet names.

"Beca, please talk to me." Emily insists, trying to hold her gaze but Beca tears away.

"Go back to the stupid boy who gave you that fucking hickey and leave me alone." Beca grunts. "I get that I may have gotten boring but you should tell me if you're drifting because, guess what, I love you Emily. Like actually love you and I just don't want to fuck you up. And, I don't know if you know this, but unrequited feelings hurt and seeing someone else with the girl you love stings like a bitch." Beca snaps before immediately realising what she's just said.

"You love me?" Emily asks, innocent and genuine.

"I-"

"I love you too." Emily smiles, so wide and adorable and Beca's smiling back in the empty auditorium, clutching the laptop bag that's slung over her shoulder and fighting the urge to scream in joy.

"You do?" Beca asks and Emily wordlessly steps forward and kisses her.

And the kiss is so different, it's sincere and loving, graceful and beautiful; it's completely and utterly perfect for the two. It's so different because others were hasty, hormone-induced, needy kisses that never meant anything but this one spoke for millions of feelings as their lips moved in sync, mingling and fitting together perfectly as Beca's fingers tangle in Emily's hair, bringing her closer, and Emily has her hands on Beca's neck.

When oxygen becomes an issue their foreheads are against each other.

"I've been waiting too long to say that." Beca sighs and Emily giggles.

"Bec?" Emily mumbles and Beca hums. "You know that hickey?" Beca tenses, ready to fight whoever gave it to her. "...It's actually just a bruise from when I bumped into something the other day." Emily blushes in embarrassment. And instead of a witty comeback or jeering from Beca she gets a sigh of relief.

"Oh thank God." Beca mumbles, pulling Emily closer as the taller girl grins.

Their feelings were yet to be untethered from their private minds to the rest of the world but it was soon to come. But for now they enjoyed the silence because the silence was no longer painful and the love was no longer thought of as unrequited.

The timing was perfect for once.

Because they're perfect - together.


End file.
